


Discipline

by Xobit



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xobit/pseuds/Xobit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus needs a little discipline and apparently Kaonites are good at providing a kind he can relate to...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discipline

“I do not care about what you ‘think’ you were doing, Rodimus! You rushed in and you did not _think_! You put lives at stake again, lives we can hardly afford to lose considering our situation out here,” Ultra Magnus was growling, rage allowed a rare opportunity to resonate in his otherwise cool and controlled voice. 

“You will learn better! And you will learn to consider our new… allies as _allies_!” he gestured to the tall purple mech standing off to the side of his desk, “Cyclonus will teach you control, hand to hand combat and how to properly ‘use’ our new allies without putting anyone in unnecessary danger. Without putting out alliance in unnecessary danger!” 

Rodimus looked at the larger mech with a rather stunned, and possibly pretty horrified, expression on his faceplates.

“You can’t me~”, “I mean just that! Now go, your first lesson is scheduled for now, you will have one every orn until I say stop,” Ultra Magnus picked up a datapad and promptly ignored the spluttering of the fire colored mech before him. 

Dismissed. 

Just like that. And into the hands of a _Kaonite_ …

* * *

“This must rankle, Kaonite, ordered about by an Iaconian commander…” Rodimus was more than willing to bait if it would get him out of this humiliation! He was not willing to do it in full public though and so had waited and held his glossa till they were behind the closed door of the training room. 

“No more than it rankles you, I am sure,” the purple mech seemed utterly uncaring, voice cold and red optics almost dead to look at. That was Cyclonus usual expression, the mech seemed to care little for living… and even less for all else. 

“…” Rodimus scowled, not prepared for the comeback. Technically he only had a problem with Ultra Magnus when he was ordering him to do something he did not want to do. Like this… like almost everything the mech ordered him to do actually, if he was honest. It was just asinine, most of it, and… and yes that rankled. 

The purple enforcer took a stance on his half of the training mat, falling into a defensive position as if he had been Created to do so. Older and far more experienced, came to Iacon from Kaon… part of the same exchange program that had landed Rodimus there. But probably not for the same reason. Prowl had sent Rodimus to ‘learn discipline’. Made a mech wonder though, was he really the only one who’d come here with negative conjugations tied to his posting?

Missing Praxus did not help anything, especially not now. Rodimus’ spoiler wings twitched as he reluctantly joined the larger mech on the training mat. 

“Pay attention!” the snap was followed by a far more effective masure of ensuring his attention, a fist. He should count himself lucky for the dent, Cyclonus sported an impressive set of claws and could very well do damage if he wanted to. 

Pit, the punch had even been pulled. 

Rodimus smiled and danced away, literally danced. Spoiler wings fluttering gently he spun and stepped away from the purple mech’s hits, sometime letting one graze but never letting another land fully. He was not going to play along… but maybe something more interesting could come out of this. 

“I will report this,” you could not even hear a trace of exertion in Cyclonus voice. It was as calm and ‘dead’ as ever. 

“I’m sure you will, but I don’t see what there is to report?” Rodimus taunted back, gracefully arching away from another hit. 

“You are not taking this seriously,” it would have been so much more fun if he could hear something in that voice, anger, frustration… even boredom!

“Oh? I am taking it very seriously, I’m taking _you_ very seriously,” blowing the other a kiss and a ferally hungry smile he spun away again. This time however he did not come very far, Cyclonus had apparently reached the end of his patience. 

Could have fooled him though, the face plate was still as passive as ever. The chassis against his, locking him to the wall, was far hotter than he would have thought it could be. Cyclonus always seemed so cold, he had been unable to imagine him as anything but icy to touch… 

“When you play with fire you get burned, young mech,” the words implied feelings he could not hear, it was disorienting and he frowned angrily. 

“Maybe I want to be burned?” the question was asked in a sweet tone but the following insult was voiced sharply, “though I had the impression I was playing with ice!” 

“In Kaon ice burns worse than flame, Rodimus… and you do not provoke either one,” _something_ glinted in the red optics and one clawed hand shifted from holding his wrists to the wall to travel down to his thigh. The first sliver of unease settled in the pit of his tank, a sense that maybe… just maybe he had miss stepped here. 

Before he managed to form a retort the thin purple dermas claimed his own, a glossa that tasted surprisingly warm and spicy forcing its way into his own mouth. Claws flexed on his thigh, grabbed hold and lifted. 

All of a sudden he was arching against a burning codpiece, his legs settled around a narrow waist. And he was _whimpering_ , moving into the contact.

Inflamed… 

Wanting it all…

Dazed he could not even answer his own incredulous question of when his anger, annoyance, and, yes, contempt, had morphed into desire. Or when he had decided to allow Cyclonus to be the top? But he did not seem to be able to protest, or even want to protest. 

Not even when the mech actually opened his panel, stretching him with those dangerously sharp digits, informing him oh so coldly that he would need to relax if he was ever going to take his girt. 

And then… then when he was taken… 

Primus…

* * *

“You want a transfer?” Ultra Magnus could not look stupefied, the mech barely had an expression even on a good day, and yet Rodimus felt that ‘stupefied’ summed up the Iaconian commander quite nicely. 

“Yes, sir,” he kept his back perfectly strait and his spoilerwings still. The image of a perfectly disciplined law enforcement officer. 

“To officer Cyclonus team?” he could feel how his dermas wanted to twitch but he tramped down on the urge. It was just too funny! Ultra Magnus quoting things from his transfer form back to him as questions.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmm… well, he has been able to teach you control…” Rodimus ruthlessly cut his vocalizer before a laugh could escape. ‘Teaching’ was one way to put it… Instead he nodded sharply. 

“I suppose that investigative work would do your record good, yes. I don’t see why not… if officer Cyclonus will have you I approve the transfer,” it was incredibly hard not to glance at the purple mech at his side but now was not the time to slip up. 

“I will take him on, sir,” a spark of heat leapt inside Rodimus and he again had to fight with a smile. He was sure that Cyclonus would ‘take him on’.

On his spike… 

Hopefully soon.

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for the DeviantArt artist Aiuke


End file.
